


Drink

by morningCrescent



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningCrescent/pseuds/morningCrescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Honestly you don’t know why you agreed to be a personal drinking fountain for your rainbow drinker friend.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Oh wait, yes you do. It’s because Kanaya is one of the few people you actually respect and admire enough to do anything for. It’s also because, even though it hurts like hell afterwards—and you would never, ever admit this to anyone but Kanaya and even then only because she’s seen it first hand—the process actually feels pretty fucking good.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink

You’re messing around on your computer when Kanaya knocks lightly on your door.

“Karkat?” she calls, voice soft and clear.

“Come in,” you shout back. Fuck, is it really that time already? Your neck is still sore from last time. Honestly you don’t know why you agreed to be a personal drinking fountain for your rainbow drinker friend.

Oh wait, yes you do. It’s because you’re a dumbass, that’s why. It’s because she says red blood happens to sustain her for longer—something to do with its particular mineral content—and while Rose is willing to help, the human can only give so much within a certain timespan. It’s because Kanaya is one of the few people you actually respect and admire enough to do anything for. It’s also because, even though it hurts like hell afterwards—and you would never, _ever_ admit this to anyone but Kanaya and even then only because she’s seen it first hand—the process actually feels pretty fucking good.

The pale troll slips into your room and coughs awkwardly into her hand. You turn from your laptop and roll your eyes.

“I think we’ve done this enough times that we can stop being weird about it.”

“Yes, well… whenever you’re ready, then.”

You sigh—in anticipation? frustration? relief? You’re not sure—and plop yourself on your couch, patting the spot next to you. Kanaya sits, her movements graceful and controlled as always, making you look like an outright slob in comparison.

“Let’s get this over with,” you say, turning your back to her. She slides into place behind you. You can feel her breath ghosting against the back of your neck, and you shudder.

Soft lips press against the spot where neck turns into shoulder, and you have to remind yourself that it’s not a kiss.

_This isn’t like that. You don’t even like Kanaya that way! This is just one friend helping another. Completely platonic. Nothing sexual whatsoever. Nope. Nothing at all._

Her mouth works against your skin, feeling out your pulse, and you practically melt at the sensation of her lips caressing you slowly, gently. Then her tongue flicks out to lick the spot—just preparing the area, you tell yourself—and you have to bite your lip to hold back a moan.

She continues to lick the expanse of skin, tongue dancing in swirls that you think probably aren’t necessary, and then her teeth come into play. They press against your flesh, not trying to bite just yet; simply waiting, threatening, subtle pressure making your hair stand on end.

Your breathing quickens despite your efforts to keep it steady, and you can feel a stirring in your pants.

_Fuck, don’t do this now! At least restrain yourself until it’s over, then you can get yourself off once she’s gone, you sick fuck!_

But the way things are going, that isn’t looking to be a possibility. Her sharp fangs are grazing over your neck, and your nook fucking _throbs_. She applies just a little more pressure and you bite down on your lip harder, but a whimper makes its way out anyway. If she notices— _of course she noticed, she’s right fucking there!_ —she doesn’t show it.

Her lips close around the skin and she bites down, and that’s it, you’re moaning into your fist like an idiot. You can feel the blood flowing out of the two pinprick wounds, and she’s sucking and your bulge is pressing insistently against the front of your pants. Waves of ecstasy rush through your body, pulsing through your core and _fuck, fuck, no no no no no_ —

You don’t even realize you’ve been protesting aloud until Kanaya stops and clamps a hand over the wound.

“Karkat? I’m so sorry, was I too rough? I’ll stop if you want.” You take a moment to get your breathing back to a reasonable level before throwing your head back against her shoulder.

“Fuck, Kanaya, I – shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I mean, I didn’t think I would—” It’s getting increasingly hard to make sense, what with all the blood rushing to your neck and crotch. God, could this _get_ any more humiliating? You knew this was a bad idea. You knew this would become a problem. Why did you go along with it for so long?

_Because you’re so desperate for any sort of attention, because you’re a failure at relationships and this is the closest thing to intimacy you’ve ever experienced, because you’re a horrible person who has been taking advantage of your friend’s condition just to derive some iota of pleasure from your miserable existence._

“Would you like me to leave?” she asks, and you clap a hand over where hers is resting on your shoulder.

“No,” you breathe. _Fuck, this is so selfish and disgusting and wrong. Kanaya is your friend and here you are using her for your own pleasure? For god’s sake, she has a matesprit! This is not okay on so many levels._ “No, I just. I’m sorry. I can’t… it’s too much, but I don’t want you to stop.” The last few words tumble out; you’re surprised you were even able to get them out of your mouth.

“I see,” she says. Her face is flushed a deep green, and you imagine yours is in a similar state. “You know, it is a… perfectly normal reaction. I hope you know I do not think any less of you for having it. I would be… happy to continue, if that is what you want.”

“Yes,” you sigh, and wow you are really out of control but _fuck_. And with that, her mouth is back on you, sucking and licking to coax out more blood, and an embarrassingly breathy noise escapes your mouth. “ _Shit_ , yes, ahh…”

Your pants are feeling unbearably tight and without thinking your hand drifts to your fly. Kanaya wraps her arms—muscular and toned from sweeps of wielding that chainsaw no doubt—around your waist as if to tell you it’s alright, so you open your pants and shove your hand down the front. You cry out when you grasp your bulge, already slick and pulsing and swollen.

“ _Ffffuck_ ,” you whine as your bulge twines with your fingers, and you squeeze it for good measure. “Oh, _fuck_ me,” you shout, your body jolting uncontrollably. Kanaya just sucks harder at your neck, tightening her grip on your waist and pressing a soft moan of her own into your skin. Shit, you are so desperate it’s pathetic.

The wound is starting to congeal; she’s already taken more blood than usual and you have a feeling you’ll need quite some time to sleep this one off.

“Shit, Kan– Kanaya, I can’t,” you gasp. She nuzzles against the back of your neck and this is awful, absolutely filthy, but the stimulation is perfect. It’s too much, it’s not enough, you want her mouth back on you and it’s as if she’s read your mind because next thing you know she’s mouthing at your neck again, avoiding the scabbing area and instead dragging her teeth and lips teasingly against the top of your spine. Your nook spasms at the sensations and holy fuck you are about to come.

“Bucket, K–Kanaya, please, I need—” She’s decaptchaloguing a pail before you can finish, positioning you over it and with one last stroke you release, spilling into the pail and your head burns with the need to cry because _what have you just done?_

A choked sob escapes and Kanaya’s arms pull you back against her once you’ve refastened your pants. She’s so warm, even though she ought to be cooler than you, and her arms are so strong and safe that you let yourself cry, just a little. She nuzzles against your cheek, kisses your jaw, and you lean into her and sigh.

“Do you… hate me now?” you sniffle.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I could never hate you.”

“But this… god, this is fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“It’s fine,” she says in that mothering, firm-yet-soft tone that makes you believe whatever she says. “You are very dear to me. Do not forget that.” 

“Okay,” you say uncertainly, relaxing against her chest and leaning your head on her shoulder. She feels so big and strong around you, protecting you, and you can’t help but feel safe around her. You also can’t help the purring that starts up in your chest.

You almost drift off like that, but then she’s nudging your cheek with something cold. You open your eyes and look up at her.

“Drink,” she insists, handing you the water bottle. “You’re probably especially dehydrated after all that.”

You take the water willingly, guzzling half the bottle before you feel sated.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“It’s no trouble, Karkat,” she says, and plants a single kiss right between your horns. “No trouble at all.”

And, well, when she says it like that, how can you _not_ believe her?


End file.
